


Maybe I'm a fucking waste filling up the empty space

by graceC



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Batfamily Angst, Panic Attack, Tim Drake Angst, batfam angst, jason and tim are platonic, so are tim and bruce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 01:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17653724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceC/pseuds/graceC
Summary: Tim is not okay





	Maybe I'm a fucking waste filling up the empty space

The Teen Titans returned to the tower in complete and utter silence. And that was not helping Tim at all, his mind was racing with different outcomes of what would happen when Batman showed up. Tim knew he’d come. He always did. Always there to point out Tim’s every mistake, to lecture, to scream and crush Tim with his omnipresent disappointment.  
Tim flinched when the zeta tube spoke,  
“Recognized: Batman A two-zero.”  
Tim sits up straighter on the couch, rigid. The look Bruce is giving him is enough for a vein to pop in Tim’s neck with how tense he is. Pure disappointment. The Bat doesn’t even have to say anything for Tim to start feeling more guilty, more useless, more of a disappointment than usual. But naturally, Bruce has to say something.  
“Red Robin,” Bruce says, his voice gruff, and deeper than usual thanks to the cowl. “Do you want to explain to me what happened on the mission?” Tim stood from the couch, his posture rigid and he didn’t bother hiding it.  
“Not really.” He answered honestly, no trace of sarcasm or snarkiness in his tone. Bruce shot him a bat glare, something that used to affect him, make him scramble to fix whatever he had done wrong. It didn’t work on him right now; he wasn’t completely sure if it was the fact that it had been used on him so much that he was now used to it or if it was because what had happened couldn’t be fixed.  
Overall, Tim was tired. Tired of that glare. Tired of the disappointment. Tired of him. All in all. Tired.  
“Red Robin, tell me. I want you to tell me what happened on this mission.”  
“You already know,” Tim responded, his eyes meeting the ground, but not in shame. His shoulders don’t sag, not outwardly at least. Batman seethes.  
“I do. Do you?” His tone isn’t the fatherly, border-line forgiving voice he used when Tim was younger, though Tim only remembers the voice vaguely.  
“Of course.” His voice isn’t snappish or standoffish, it’s a tired acceptance. He accepts that he is going to be lectured, he accepts that he isn’t good enough and he accepts that his family thinks that as well. There’s not much else for him to feel, it’s all a bit of a void. Static thoughts, every sound in the room becomes the sound of adults in a Peanuts comic. 

“Somebody’s dead, Tim! Now is not the time to be all silent and stoic!” Cassie exploded, her eyes flashing as she turned on him in anger. Tim stared back at her with blank eyes, which only seemed to anger Cassie more.  
“You know, Cassie, i am so sick and tired of you acting like you are on this high horse!” Tim responded, his voice intense but he was not yet shouting. For the first time that day, Tim’s voice contained emotion; bitterness.  
Tim scowls, “I’m so sorry that not all of us broke into a archeological dig and obtained magical powers, and then decided we were better than everyone else!” Cassie took a step back, her face going slack for a second in hurt before she caught herself.  
“We don’t all get the pleasure of starting over!” Everyone could tell Tim had more to say, but Batman ended Tim’s rant by placing a hand on his shoulder. Tim shrugs Bruce’s hand off of him, and rounds on his former mentor, his face stormy.  
“Don’t,” Tim growled, his voice quiet yet menacing. Bruce looked caught off guard, which he had only been a handful of times.  
His eyebrow furrowed in concern, “Tim, what’s wrong?”  
Tim looked at Bruce for a minute. His face drops slightly. “What’s wrong?” Tim repeats. He looks at the ceiling and takes a deep breath, blinking rapidly. “What’s wrong,” Tim says again, quieter now. Slowly, Tim’s face changes and he looks back down.  
Running a hand through his hair and putting the other in his pocket, he meets Bruce’s eyes again.  
“I don’t know. I’m just… I don’t think I’ve gotten a lot of sleep lately. Not feeling well. I’m sorry about that, I didn’t really mean to fuck up like that.”  
Tim chuckles a bit and looks at his shoes as if they’re going to make everything okay. He anticipates the instant pity from his family and team, and the response is exactly as he knew it would be. He looks up to see a few of his teammates looking at him understandingly and a bit of hidden pity; he gives a small, regretful smile to his team and then one more to Bruce.  
“I’ll get some sleep,” He says, making his voice vulnerable. “Maybe we can talk about everything that happened in the morning.”  
His team nods, though Tim knows that the morning conversation will never come. He looks at each teammate and Bruce separately, then walks slowly to his room. No one stops him.  
⇼  
“There is no way in hell one of us is taking that!” Cassie argued, gesturing wildly with her hand towards the needle in Tim’s hand.  
You see, the team was trapped between a rock and a hard place. Outside the building they were in, was a monster that they weren’t sure they could take on. So, they decided to evacuate the labs that made it, and as they ushered out the scientists, one of them handed Tim a needle, full of bright blue liquid. The scientist quickly -vaguely- explained that this drug, was basically Kryptonian powers in a needle.  
Cassie, Skeeter, and Bart argued that they didn’t really know what was in it, and they shouldn’t trust the scientists that made the monster outside; while Conner and Miguel argued that they didn’t really have a choice.  
Tim had remained silent during the whole conversation, his gaze fixed on the needle held loosely in his hand. Tim made up his mind while they argued. It would be worth it as long as they got out alive… at least that was his excuse.  
“Whoever takes it could die,” Cassie says throwing her hands in the air.  
Tim groaned in the background, cutting off whatever shouting was coming up next. Heads turned to him quickly in concern. Cassie’s jaw dropped as Tim slowly pulled the needle out of his arm.  
“Oh god,” Cassie whispers.  
“There. It’s settled.” Tim quipped. Before Tim could do anything else, Bart appeared in front of him.  
“Ohmygodyouaregoingtodienowthisisallmyfaulticouldhavestoppedthis.” Bart was speaking to quickly for anyone to understand, so Tim interrupted him.  
“I have no idea what you just said, but i promise it’s worth it.” Tim reassured Bart, “Whatever happens to me will be worth it as long as you guys make it out alive.”  
Bart pursed his lips, his brow furrowed, but he knew better than to argue with Red Robin. Tim was a different story, but this, this was Red Robin.  
“Let’s do this.” Tim said, his voice determined. The team followed behind him, their eyes dancing in concern.  
⇼  
Tim sat in his Robin’s Nest in the Titans Tower, researching whatever he could to keep his mind busy. Poison, murder, hour long vine compilations, distraction.  
“Tim,” A low voice from behind him called in greeting. Tim’s movements froze, his spine straightened and his posture went rigid.  
“Bruce,” He greeted stiffly, before turning around. He was surprised when he was met with Bruce, no the Bat. Bruce had his cowl pulled down.  
Tim decided he prefered Bruce with the cowl, at least then he couldn’t see the disappointment swimming in Bruce’s bright blue eyes. Why, oh lord, was it always there. Just so constant.  
“Your team called,” Bruce stated carefully, watching his words so not to set the teen off, “They said there was an incident.”  
Inside, Tim was instantly a scrambled mess. Does he know? How could I have been so stupid? Why couldn’t people just leave me alone? They all hate me anyway; all of them wished I was gone. Trust me, I do too.  
But outside, he was the cool, calm, collected Wayne Industries CEO, he was the overconfident Red Robin.  
Tim forced out a small chuckle, “I appreciate their concern,” (They didn’t care at all about me, they just wanted to make sure their leader wouldn’t get them all killed, dammit.) “But there was no incident. I made a risky call for the sake of my team, you would have done the same thing.”  
This didn’t seem to ease any of Bruce’s concerns. Fantastic, now I’m stressing Bruce. He’s worried that he’ll have to announce another dead son. I can’t even convince him I’m fine.  
Tim took it one step further to reassure his former mentor he was okay, grinning slyly, “Or you would have made Oliver take it.”  
Bruce chuckled. Bingo. The moment didn’t last long and Bruce went serious once more.  
“Try to be more careful, okay?”  
“Of course.” Lie. “I don’t have a death wish.” Lie. “I know you guys would freak if something happened.” Lie “I won’t do anything unnecessarily dangerous.” Lie. “That’s all I ask.” Bruce’s eyes were soft with concern and love, but that’s not what Tim saw. Does he really think I’m stupid? I can see the false concern. I know he couldn’t care less about me.  
Tim forces a cheerful smile on his face.  
“It was good to see you, Bruce.” Lie…  
⇼  
Tim was not in his ideal situation right now. First of all, he was back in Gotham. Second of all, he was currently bleeding out on the ground. Not exactly what could be called a happy homecoming. He had been shot in the stomach, and his left shoulder was definitely dislocated. This was supposed to be a simple interrupt a drug deal and take down a few baddies mission; Tim didn’t know the joker would be there. In the end, Tim came out on top but not without a few wounds.  
Tim’s fingers hesitated over his distress button on his suit, which was located behind his ear. Would they even come? A shift in position sent a burning streak of pain through his body. He pressed the button.  
His left hand stayed on the bleeding wound, even with the sting of that shoulder being dislocated. He wouldn’t last much longer without medical attention. Small spots already danced in his line of sight. Scowling at them, Tim kept his eyes closed.  
A few minutes passed, when darkness started giving Tim tunnel vision. Bruce and Stephanie turned the corner following the signal of the distress call.  
“Tim?” Steph’s voice was panicked as she rushed over to Tim’s nearly limp body; which was laying half propped up in a dark spot of an alley. She’s a good actor. Tim thought ruefully, opening his eyes once more.  
“Mhmm.” Tim mumbled in response. His head lolling to one side Bruce picked him up. Barely, Tim could register that it was in fact Bruce, his cowl down just enough for Tim’s failing vision to pick up on.  
“Don’t worry, Red Robin. We’ll get you home.” Bruce’s words were meant to be comforting, but it had the exact opposite effect on Tim, even in his state of delirium. He panicked; the rush of adrenaline allowed him to kick and fight for a grand, painful total of six seconds before Tim was once again pained and delirious. His thoughts rushed faster than his mind could handle,. No no no. Can’t go to the Manor. Can’t go to the Manor!  
“No… ” Tim croaked, his voice slurred. As he slipped out of consciousness finally, Steph and Bruce shot him concerned looks.  
⇼  
Tim woke up in a blind panic. He shot up in the bed he was laying in, his heartbeat erratic as he widely looked around the room. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he instantly shoved it off and moved as far as he could away from it.  
“Tim!” Tim finally stopped flailing around and made eye contact with Dick, who was standing to the right of his bed. Wait, this was the med bay. In the cave. Oh no, please no. “Timbo! Calm down! You’re home!”  
Tim’s panic increased tenfold. He struggled to get the IV out of his arm, a stupid thing to do if injured, and stand up, only to have Dick gently push him back onto the bed. Tim slapped Dick’s hand away from him, and curled himself in the of the bed, furthest from his brother. Tim ignored the look of hurt that flashed across the older man’s face; Tim opted to instead focus on steadying his heartbeat and breathing. His mind was racing a mile a minute, coming up with hundreds of different ways to get out of the cave within the hour.  
Tim didn’t know how none of the family noticed he hadn’t come to the manor since he moved to the Titans tower. Like ever. Not for holidays, birthdays or missions. He always offered an alternative: the tower, a nice cafe, the roof of Wayne Industries. While he doesn’t know how they didn’t notice, he was glad they didn’t. If they had, he likely would have been dragged back to the manor kicking and screaming and forced to stay until they decided he could leave again. And like hell Tim was letting that happen.  
“Tim? What’s wrong?” There was that goddamn question again. Like they cared. If they cared they would have noticed me pulling away.  
“Nothing.” Tim managed to get the words out with an even voice, “I was just confused.”  
The (fake) worry on Dick’s face lessened by an exponential amount. Dick placed a comforting hand on Tim's shoulder, and Tim had to fight the urge to shrug it off, got to keep up appearances.  
“Get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” Now that is something Tim is not looking forward too. And as much as Tim would like to escape tonight, to run as fast and as hard as he could away from Gotham, he knew he needed to heal at least a little bit before running. He would be here for three days at most, avoid as much of the family as possible and then run like hell back to New York. And hopefully, never come back.  
⇼  
Tim was awoken the next morning by Alfred so that the butler could change his bandages.  
“Master Dick and Master Bruce should be down soon.” Alfred said, but the unsaid weighed heavily on the pair. So that they can find out what the hell is going on with you.  
Tim simply shook his head, appearing as the calm, collected Wayne industries CEO; the confident, rational Red Robin, when in reality, he was anything but.  
No no no no no no no no no no. Couldn’t they just leave him be?  
“Hey, Timbo.” Dick spoke softly, but he still startled Tim, who hadn’t even realized Alfred had left, or that Dick and Bruce had entered.  
Tim stared blankly at Dick, his head nodding the slightest bit. If they weren’t detectives, they might have missed it.  
“How are you doing?” Dick asked, once again in that soft tone, while Bruce stood behind him, arms crossed.  
“Been better.” It wasn’t a joke or sarcasm, it was just--- blank. The answer was void of emotion in a way that scared Dick. Not because he was scared of Tim, but because he was scared for Tim.  
“What happened?” Bruce questioned bluntly. Dick shot him a dirty look. It was obvious to Tim that this conversation was pre-planned, and Bruce was supposed to let Dick handle it.  
“It was supposed to be a simple drug bust, but-” Tim paused. Dick nodded at him as if telling him to continue, “Joker was there.”  
The tension in the room skyrocketed, Bruce’s entire body was stiff and tense, while Dick was stiff in sadness, grief. Even though they did have Jason back, any mention of the clown increased the tension in the room tenfold. But Tim hadn’t just mentioned Joker, he had gone toe-to-toe with him.  
The fact that he came out alive was completely irrelevant to either of the men standing in front of him.  
“You should have called for backup.” Bruce said crossly, through gritted teeth.  
Was he really so unimportant that Bruce didn’t even bother listening to him anymore? Unless of course, it was a screwup, then Bruce was all ears.  
“I didn’t know he was there. By the time I figured it out, it was too late, the fight was started and if I so much as thought about anything else, I would be just another sidekick lost to the Joker.” Tim spat out bitterly, though he didn’t know whom he was bitter towards anymore. Jason, for being better than him, leaving a looming shadow over everything Tim ever accomplished or dying in the first place? Bruce, for not saving Jason, for never giving Tim the time of day? Himself, for not being good enough? Or was it all of the above? He knew the answer. While he was bitter towards Jason and Bruce, he knew, deep down, that it was himself that he hated. Not them.  
Bruce looked like he wanted to say more, and Dick looked like he didn’t, so Tim spoke, “I’m tired.”  
He wasn’t lying. Whatever drug the bats had him on, made his drowsier than he had ever been before. He didn’t look long enough to see the hurt flash in Dick’s eyes, instead, he closed his eyes and flopped onto his left side. Almost immediately, he drifted out of consciousness.  
Tim awoke the next morning, once again, in a flurry of panic. He shot up in the small hospital bed gasping for air, only to realize he couldn’t get any. His chest was painfully tight and he pressed his hand to it in a futile attempt to relieve some of the pressure. It was then, that Tim realized he was also sobbing uncontrollably, making it even more difficult to breathe. Panic attack, Tim deduced, but it did nothing to help him. He figured it was probably a combination of whatever awful dream he had had and the fact that he was back at the manor.  
Tim raggedly gasped again, a desperate attempt to get some air in his burning lungs. It did little to help, but Tim knew he was getting enough oxygen to not go unconscious. This was not the first time he had had a panic attack, hell it wasn’t even his 100th time having a panic attack. He tries to breathe again, but he was interrupted by an ugly sob ripping through his body. Okay, now he was worried. If he can’t get any oxygen soon……..  
Tim’s train of thought was broken by a hand on his shoulder, his sobbing increased. The hand disappeared. At this point, Tim’s hands were pressed to his chest, and he was curled in on himself.  
He felt the bed dip and saw a flash of red. He faintly heard something that vaguely sounded like a human voice. He heard it again. He was pretty sure it was his name.  
“-M! Tim!” Tim’s head snapped up and was met with the worry-filled blue eyes of Jason Todd. Another ragged breath.  
“Timmy! Look at me! You are okay!” Ragged breath. Tim stayed focused on Jason’s eyes, “Breathe, Tim! Breath!” Tim gasped again, but this time, a little more oxygen came in. And a little more. And a little more, until he was breathing normally again. He was still sobbing, and as soon as Jason saw that Tim was no longer having a panic attack, he pulled him into a hug. Jason started humming, a song that Tim didn’t recognize, and running his fingers through Tim’s hair.  
“C’mon Timbers, you’re okay now,” Jason mumbled, and at that moment. Tim believed him.


End file.
